


Necromancer

by TurtleChan (LlyaAegi)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Multi, Necromancy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sheriff Stilinski is a Good Parent, Stilinski Family Feels, Stydia are BFFLs, Tags Are Hard, tattooed!stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-07 17:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7723900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LlyaAegi/pseuds/TurtleChan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The house on 36 Cairn Way, Beacon Hills, CA has been empty for years.  Until the Stilinski’s moved in. On a possibly unrelated note, Beacon Hills now has the lowest number of unsolved cases in the state.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted a story that had Papa Stilinski and Stiles in a good relationship with open communication. I wanted a story where they love and respect each other and work together because they know that they can get more done with the two of them rather than alone. I wanted a story with Hale Pack feels and Stydia being BFFLs and tattooed!Stiles and yeah. I couldn't find one that suited my needs so I wrote this thing here. *shrugs* I hope it turns out okay... <3

“...called forth from the Darkness and Shadow of the Beyond, I bid thee enter!” The smooth male voice died out and the candles flickered in the still room.  Shadows danced against the walls and a soft whisper filled the circle.

“Where am I?” the boy on the floor blinked.

“Don’t move,” the man standing over him said calmly.  “You are safe here, stay calm.”

The boy blinked a few more times and tried to shift, but pain laced up his spine.  “What happened?”

The man smiled gently.  “That is what I was hoping you would tell me.  You were waiting at a bus stop for the 9:20 ride and something happened.  Can you remember?”

Blinking furiously, the boy searched his memories.  “The bus...the bus came and I was going to get on...but someone stepped off and I...I think I fell backwards.”

“I think you are right.  You hit the back of your head.  What happened after that?” the man was so relaxed.

The boy took a rattling breath.  “That person, it was a man with tattoos, he pulled a knife.  He wanted my backpack.”

The man pulled a book up.  “If I showed you some pictures, do you think you could identify him?”

“I think so.” The boy tried to shift again, but the pain kept him still.  He looked at the pictures and finally pointed to a man’s mugshot.  “That is him, I remember the teardrop there.  He smelled like cigarettes and flowers and I thought that was weird, but then I saw the flower tattoo on his neck there and thought that was why.  Am I...am I dead?”

There was a sympathetic smile on the man’s face as he nodded.  “You are temporarily back in your body so that we can find your killer.  We had to know for sure.”

“My mom? Is she okay?”

“She is hurting from your death, but she is a strong woman.  She will be okay.  I need to send you back now.  Do you have anything else to tell me, or to tell anyone else?”

The boy blinked again, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.  “Just tell my mom that I love her, and I am only kind of sorry about the magazines in my closet.”

The man chuckled.  “I will tell her.  Thank you son.  Now, close your eyes and try to relax.”

The boy obeyed and his body went lax on the ground.  Flames danced and the shadows flickered once more as the man lifted his hands.

“Divines, I offer my gratitude for the gift of his spirit for this short time and release him back to your care.  Hades, Father of the Underworld, Keeper of the Souls of the Dead, I send this child back to your loving arms to rest in peace.  The knowledge I have gleaned from this experience I will use to bring justice to his loved ones and swear to pass on the messages he requested.  Kenneth Falk, I bid thee depart in peace!”

The echoes of ravens signaled the end of the ritual and the candles snuffed themselves out.

**

“Well done, Stilinski!” the chief of police smiled at the officer sitting in front of him.  John Stilinski was the most celebrated police officer in the Los Angeles area.  With the highest number of closed homicide cases, he was also one of the most hated.

“Just doing my job,” John smiled tightly.  His chest ached a little and his shoulder was sore from the chase and subsequent tackling of the criminal he had finally hunted down.  The tears of the woman when he told her that the case was closed made it worth all the aching, justice for her dead child.

“You have been a godsend to this department.  I am sorry you are leaving us.” The Chief was truly upset to be losing his best man, but after the death of Claudia Stilinski and the following numerous threats, it was for the best that John take his son somewhere quieter.

John shook the man’s hand.  “It is a good change.  There is a Sheriff position opening up in the town, and I will probably regret running for it, but I could never leave the job for long.”

“I’ll be sure to send support.  Thank you for your service here and good luck.”

**

Stiles Stilinski watched his dad pull the door down on the back of the moving truck with only a little trepidation. This was a good thing, despite moving during his sophomore year of high school, leaving all his friends and the house he grew up in.  His dad was going to be the sheriff of some tiny town he had never heard of, and he would finally be able to finish his supplementary education without worrying about nosy neighbors interrupting.  

“Don’t worry kiddo,” his dad wrapped an arm around his shoulders and they looked their last at the house they were leaving behind.  “I got a feeling about this place.”

“Is this a good feeling? Butterflies in the stomach, love at first sight feeling? Or is this one of those ‘oh god we are going to die’ jumping off a cliff feelings?  Because there is a very important distinction between the two and it isn't too late to unpack here if you are feeling the latter of those things.”

John chuckled and pushed his son towards the passenger side of the truck.  “Just a feeling.”

“Great Dad, real specific.” Stiles rolled his eyes and tripped his way into the seat, nearly strangling himself with the seatbelt.  “Hey, did Mrs. Falk take the news okay?”

John sighed.  “Telling her we caught her son’s killer with enough evidence and a confession to put him away was fine.  Passing on a message from beyond the grave is always something else.  No doubt she will be calling the station to demand how I knew about her son’s secret stash.”

“It does make you sound a little creepy, just saying.”

“Does not.  Every boy has a secret stash hidden somewhere in their room, usually in a place they think is really clever, but is actually not.  Don’t think I don’t know about yours.” John teased, and pulled the truck onto the street to being the long drive to Beacon Hills and their new life.

  
  



	2. Chapter 1

“Well,” Stiles looked at the new house in curiosity.  “This is very Twilight-esque.”

“I beg your pardon?” John’s brows rose.  “Twilight what?”

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “Twilight.  You know, sparkly vampires? The pre-Christian Grey obsession for middle aged women? You had that whole string of murders a few years ago, the teenagers that were faking being vamps.”

“Ah yes, I remember.” Those were horribly gruesome and John wished he didn't remember things like that sometimes. “What does that have to do with our house?”

Stiles dragged his bag and the last of his soda from the front seat.  “We have a special snowflake old house backed up against a freaking forest, with a beat up old car out front and you are an officer of the law.”

“Should I start calling you Bella?” John tried to hide his smile.

Stiles turned to him with a deadpan expression.  “I will feed you only salad for the rest of your life.  And when you die, I will bring you back and make you eat more salad. And you know I do not joke about the salad.” 

John put his hands up in surrender with a smile.  “Come on, let’s take a look.”

The house was nicer than expected, even if the cabinets were old and there were a few mysterious stains on the carpet.  The three bedrooms upstairs were not huge, but not small either and they each had their own bathroom.  The best part was the basement accessed from under the stairs.

“Not bad,” Stiles nodded.  “Should I start bringing things in?”

John shook his head.  “Before anything gets in, we need to cleanse and ward the space.  Why don’t you take the upstairs and I will do the entryways down here.  We can take care of the basement together.”

“Sage?” Stiles asked, pulling a carved wooden box from his bag.

“Go with the palo santo.  We can sage once all our stuff is in.  Don’t forget to-”

“Call in the Elements and the Deities, I know.” Stiles rolled his eyes and huffed up the stairs.  “I have cleansed and warded space before, Dad.”

John leaned on the banister and watched his son head up.  “I hope you don’t roll your eyes at the Gods or one day your eyes will end up stuck that way. Don’t forget the vents.”

Stiles laughed and tossed his father a small stick of wood before disappearing into one of the rooms.  Despite the teasing, Stiles did take this seriously and dropped his bag in what would be his room before orienting himself to the cardinal points.  He stood facing North and lit the small chunk of wood, letting the smoke curl around.  Slowly, methodically, he waved and blew the smoke into all the corners of the upstairs, moving is steady clockwise steps. Every window, every air vent, every floorboard was cleansed.

Downstairs, John was following the same methodical process, cleansing the house and listening to his son upstairs at the same time.  He was proud of the progress Stiles had made, and knew that soon he would surpass anything John could teach him.  There were rumors of a Master Druid living in this town and hoped he could secure a teacher for his kid.

“Upstairs is done,” Stiles sat on the stairs waiting for his dad to finish.  John took a little longer with ritual work like this.  They joked this was because he was getting old, but the truth was that Stiles was so much more in tune with the energy and could bend it to his need faster than John could.

“Ready to tackle the basement?” They headed down the stairs together.  

While it didn’t look like anything creepy, just a normal walled in space with bright lighting and clean floors, there was something here that prickled the skin.  As John lit the palo santo again, they both felt the chill pass through.

“What do you think?” Stiles asked.  “Ghost? Spirit? Creepy stalking vampire?”

John snorted.  “Spirit, most likely.”

“Because of the lack of electrical interference,” Stiles nodded.  “What do you want to do?”

John debated for a moment.  “Grab the red box from the truck.”

“You want to talk to it?”

“I’d rather talk to it than risk a violent encounter.  Hurry up.”

Stiles ran to the truck and hauled the back door up and found the large red tackle box right on top.  Did his dad know about this?  Shaking the thought away, he dashed back down the stairs and shut the basement door behind him.

“Set up the candles and chalk the circle.  I will get the offerings together,” John instructed smoothly.

They worked seamlessly together and John had the stray thought of his wife, how she would move to help in times like this.  Stiles was so much like his mother.

“You know that this is super creepy, right?” Stiles said, pulling the doll out of the bottom of the box.  It was an old porcelain doll, genderless, with eyes and a mouth that moved.  

John took it and set it in the chalk circle.  “Did you pack a dead body we could use instead?”

“I am just saying, Chucky was a movie that gave me nightmares for months.  Perhaps it should serve as a warning not to use dolls like this.”

“What would you suggest we do instead?”

“I could always-”

“No.” John’s expression hardened.  “Not for all the universe am I using  _ my son _ to harbor an unknown spirit.”

It was an old argument, and one Stiles knew he would lose, but he always pushed anyway.  “I have to go through the experience for training anyway.  I don’t see why we can’t do it.”

John growled a little.  “When we do it, it will be because we are all prepared for it.  The space will be properly prepared, you will be cleansed and protected, and we will be calling in a gentle spirit.  I am not risking you over a variable we don’t know.  Got it?”

Stiles sighed. “Yeah.  I still say the doll is freaky.”

Once everything was prepared, Stiles stepped back into the shadows and John called the spirit into the doll.  The sudden creaking of the ceramic pieces was startling.  

“Hello,” John crouched down and watched the head turn towards him.  “I am John.”

“John.” The voice was grating and high pitched, like a voice recording gone bad.  “Why are you here?”

“My son and I have moved into this house.  Why are  _ you _ here?”

“I came for you.  To warn you.”

John glanced at Stiles once before turning back.  “To warn of what?”

“Tell me John,” the doll wobbled a little, “that you know of the old magic.”

John was taken back.  “A little.  I heard stories from my teacher of the old ways.”

“You will need to know, you will need to teach.” The doll creaked again, turning towards Stiles.  “The spark of a mage, he will learn.”

John raised his hand, signalling for Stiles to stay back, to hold onto his questions.  Any disruption could cause a problem.  “My son is no mage.”

“Not yet,” the doll laughed.  “You were right to come here.  They need you.”

“You had a warning.  Tell me and be at peace.”

The doll sat up abruptly and John leaned backwards, almost falling over, but Stiles jumped forward to catch him.  “It has awoken, darkness will spread.  Foe and friend alike. Nameless sacrifice, unintentional death will open the door.  The light of the moon may close it again. Embrace the spark and void to save that which you hold dearest.”

The screeching voice fell silent and the doll went limp.  John pushed Stiles back and quickly closed out the ritual, opening up the circle again.  The second he could, Stiles began throwing out questions and theories but the two Stilinski’s were out of their depth, knowing nothing about the town.

“Write it down,” John directed stoically.  “Everything you remember exactly, then go shower and bathe in the rose water.  I will finish with this room.”  

Stiles pulled a small bar of chocolate out of his pocket and handed it to his dad as John left three gold coins in the circle for a moment.  This was not what they expected their first day in the house.  But at least the spirit was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

“Welcome to today’s chemistry lab, where most of you will likely fail.  Take a look at the packet at your station and start by putting your names at the top.  If you do not put your pathetic names at the top, you will receive the same failing grade as most of your peers.  Begin.”

Stiles stared at his chemistry teacher in disbelief.  Leaning over to the girl next to him he whispered, “Is he always like that?”

She turned to face him, looking him up and down.  Beautiful wavy strawberry blonde hair settled over her shoulders and she pursed her bright pink lips.  “No.  Usually he is worse.  Must be in a good mood today.”  She stuck her hand out.  “Lydia Martin.”

“Stiles Stilinski.” He shook her hand lightly and then leaned over the papers.  “How are you in this class? I took AP Bio at my last school, but that class was full here.”

Lydia grinned mischievously.  “Don’t worry about it.  I will help you keep up.”

Turned out Lydia had a handful of classes with Stiles and made sure to shoo away students so he could sit right next to her.  At lunch, she pulled him along to her table, and obviously he had won over the most popular girl in the school.

“Who’s this noob?” the obvious jock boyfriend sneered.  He looked the part, muscled with a chiseled jaw line and perfect hair.

“Be nice, Jackson,” Lydia pouted at him.  “Stiles Stilinski is new here, and is going to be my lab partner so I can keep my GPA up without doing all the work like I would otherwise. I will not risk my acceptance into MIT because of your unnecessary jealousy.”

Lydia flipped her hair and pulled out her notes for Stiles to copy over.  Jackson glared at Stiles anyway.  “Looks like a complete dweeb.”

Stiles looked up and raised a brow.  “Not all of us can fill out the dumb jock position.  But you can chill out. I am not interested in stealing your girl.”

“You gay or something?” Jackson chuckled darkly.

The boy across from them at the table made a noise of discontent, but Stiles plowed on ahead.  “It really isn’t any of your business what I am.  And even if I was, you wouldn’t be my type.”

Jackson laughed.  “I am everybody’s type, Stilinski.”

Lydia turned and smacked him in the arm sharply.  “Shut up and eat your lunch. You have practice next period.”

“Practice?” Stiles asked curiously.  “Like football or something?”

The boys laughed like something was actually funny, except for the handsome boy across the table.  He rolled his bright brown eyes and explained.  “Football isn’t big here.  Our sport is lacrosse.”

Stiles sat up straighter.  “For real? I played on the city rec lacrosse team forever.”

“I suppose you will want to try out then?” the boy looked hopeful.

Jackson immediately turned sour.  “Don’t tell him that, Danny.  Our first line is full and McCall warms the bench just fine.  We don’t need any more players.”

Danny shook his head.  “Coach was saying we need a better starting line this season or we won’t make it to regionals. If Stiles can play, why not let him try out?  You are getting butthurt over little things again Jackson.  Afraid you will lose out on your captain’s jersey this year?”

Jackson and Danny bickered through the rest of the meal and Stiles tuned them out in favor of copying over the major notes for the last few classes.  Lydia pointed him in the right direction for his next period and he headed into Econ with Danny.  All the desks were full except the one right in front of the teacher’s table.

“Well who do we have here?” the teacher looked between Stiles and the clipboard on his table.  “Stiles Stilinski? That is your name? Why the hell would your parents do a thing like that? You know, I went to school with a Richard Head.  He went by Dick.  Think about that.  Dick. Head.  Stiles Stilinski, dear god.  Alright you miscreants! Books out to chapter four!”

Stiles glanced at Danny with a silent “ _ what the hell?! _ ” and Danny mouthed back “ _ lacrosse coach _ ”.  Between Jackson the douche-captain and the crazy coach, Stiles was pretty sure he would be skipping out on tryouts.  

“McCall!” Coach shouted suddenly, causing the entire class to jump out of their skins.  “What is the definition of opportunity cost?”

Everyone turned to the boy sitting near the back.  He had mousy brown hair and an uneven jawline and looked around nervously.  “I...I don’t know, Coach.”

“Have you even opened your textbook once this year, McCall? Do you use it as a pillow? Prop up your laptop while you look at porn? Is this textbook getting any use at all? No? Thank you, McCall.”

The boy looked both embarrassed and ashamed and slouched further in his seat.  “What about you, Stilinski? Opportunity cost.”

Stiles glanced back once more at McCall before shrugging.  “It is whatever must be given up in order to obtain some other item, at a potential loss.”

“Yes! Finally! A kid with a brain!”

The lesson dragged on after that and Stiles was grateful to have survived his first day.  Lydia promised to email him her notes for their shared classes, and Danny did the same thing.  By the time he walked into the house, he was exhausted and promptly flopped face first onto the couch.

“Hey kiddo,” his dad walked in and set a glass of milk and an apple down on the coffee table next to him.  “Good first day, huh?”

Stiles mumbled into the cushions for a moment before turning his face towards his dad.  “I am friends with the most popular girl in school, enemies with her boyfriend, and the psycho econ teacher’s favorite.  Also, the chem teacher is a dick.”

“Hey, language.”

“Worth it.  How’s the department?”

John shook his head.  “Small.  Smaller than I anticipated. Apparently there have been too many incidents over the years that make jobs in the station less than ideal.”

“What sort of incidents?” Stiles sat up intrigued and John regaled some of the more interesting cases that had been deemed closed.

John was about to ask about dinner when the doorbell rang.  Opening it revealed a woman in scrubs and her son. Stiles recognized the boy immediately.

“Hi there!” she smiled brightly.  “I’m Melissa. McCall. Um, yeah, Melissa McCall, and this is my son Scott.  We saw you moving in last weekend, but this is the first chance we had to come introduce ourselves.”

John smiled and introduced himself.  Stiles gave a half wave and a sort of shrug in greeting. “You are in high school, Scott?” John asked, trying to be friendly.

“Yeah,” Scott shrunk back a little.  “We have a class together,” he nodded at Stiles.

Picking up on the energy immediately, Stiles jumped in with a kind smile to Scott.  “Yeah, that psycho econ teacher I mentioned, we are in his class together.”

“Ah, Coach, yeah he is a strange one,” Melissa nodded in understanding.  “Well, I am not sure if you have been buried in food yet by the neighbors, but this freezes really well and reheats in the microwave.” She handed over a dish.

“Thank you,” John smiled at her again.  “We were just talking about what to make.  Would you like to come in?”

Melissa declined, stating she had a shift coming up at the local hospital, but looked forward to seeing them both around.  Stiles extended an olive branch and asked that if Scott had any notes for Econ, to please email them over and maybe they could study together.

Just as they were all saying their goodbyes, there was a loud howl coming from the trees behind them.  Stiles grabbed onto his dad’s arm and John reached towards the sidearm that wasn’t there.  Melissa and Scott looked on almost passively, before waving and walking calmly across the street.

“What the hell?” Stiles rushed to the back door and peeked through the curtains, trying to see anything from the window. 

“If I didn’t know better, I would say that was a wolf.”

Stiles frowned.  “Dad, there haven’t been wolves spotted in California in like 60 years.”

“Exactly. But that was no coyote.” John sighed and holstered his gun.

“You are going to check it out? Can I come?” Stiles bounced a little on his feet.

“No way,” John pulled his sheriff’s jacket on.  “You have homework to catch up on.  What you  _ can  _ do is call the station and ask for deputy Parrish and look into the wild animal sightings for me.  Keep your phone on, I will let you know if I need help.”

Stiles slumped, disappointed to not be going, but grabbed his laptop and set up at the dining table to keep an eye on the back yard for his dad.  He tucked the phone to his ear and waited for the computer to boot up.

_ “Sheriff’s station.” _

“Hi! My name is Stiles Stilinski, I am Sheriff Stilinski’s son.  I am looking for Deputy Parrish?”

_ “One moment please.” _

He downloaded the notes that Danny sent as he wiggled around to the hold music.  

_ “Deputy Parrish.” _ Stiles raised his brows at the smooth young voice that came on the line, then cleared his throat.

“Hi, this is Stiles, the sheriff’s son.”

_ “Hello Stiles.  Your dad has told me quite a bit about you.” _  The man was obviously smiling.

“Ignore most of it,” Stiles pouted a bit.  “Obviously lies, slander against my good person.  Anyway, we heard some noises out back of the house and he told me to ask you about any wild animal incidents in the last few years.  What do you have on that?”

There was a long pause.   _ “What kind of animal?” _

“Mountain lions, wild dogs, coyotes, that sort of thing.”  He tapped the pen against his notebook anxiously.

Another long pause, and Deputy Parrish’s voice turned serious.   _ “Stiles.  What kind of animal really?” _

“...wolves?”

_ “Hang on one second.”  _  The hold music came back on but Stiles wasn’t dancing this time.  The sudden change in tone of Deputy Parrish made Stiles’s anxiety spike a little and he jiggled his leg waiting.   _ “Alright.  I have a couple of incident reports from a few years back.  Reports of loud howling coming from the preserve, two bodies with bite and claw marks consistent with a wolf attack.” _

“But no one has seen wolves here in sixty years.”

_ “No one reported actually seeing wolves in these reports either.  Where is the Sheriff now?” _

“Out in the woods behind the house.  He said he wanted to check it out.”

_ “I am coming over.” _ Deputy Parrish hung up and it did nothing to quell the fear settling in Stiles’ stomach.

Perks of having a vehicle with sirens meant that the good Deputy Parrish slid into the Stilinski’s driveway only ten minutes later.  The door to the house opened before the man could knock and the officer took in the sight of the Sheriff’s only child.  Lanky and lean with short spiky brown hair, wide amber eyes and a spattering of moles across his pale skin.  Over all that was the nervousness that made the boy’s movements slightly spastic.

“Deputy Parrish?” Stiles confirmed.

“Just call me Jordan,” he stuck out his hand with a kind smile. “Your dad isn’t back yet?”

Stiles shook his head and motioned for him to come inside.  “Are those the reports?”

“Yes.  I brought them for the Sheriff to look over.”

Stiles wanted to reach out and take them, but the Cops theme song jingled from inside his pocket and he answered it quickly.  “Hey Dad. Jordan Parrish is here with a bunch of files for you.”

_ “I need you to bring the deputy out to where I am.  I turned my GPS on.  You can figure out how to track me from that?” _ John sounded defeated, weary.

“No problem.  Are you okay? Did you find something?”

_ “I found something alright.  Bring my scene bag from the unit and be careful coming out here.” _

Stiles was already rushing around getting what he needed and slipping his boots on.  “Love you Dad.”

_ “Love you kid.” _

Stiles turned to the deputy.  He was really young to be on the force, looking like he was fresh out of the academy, but Stiles knew better than to judge someone on their, albeit very handsome, looks alone.  “Ready for a hike, Jordan?”

Jordan raised his brows and nodded, taking the bag from Stiles’s grip and motioning for the boy to lead the way.  

The sky grew darker as they crunched through dead leaves and broken branches.  Stiles talked nonstop on the walk through the trees until they got closer, and then began to call out for his dad, trying to hone in on the blinking dot on his phone.  What felt like ages later, they heard the return shout.

“Watch where you step,” John said, reaching for the bag and pulling out the flashlight.  “Deputy, set up a perimeter around those trees there and call in a crime scene.”

Jordan nodded.  “What am I reporting?”

John turned the flashlight down towards the bloodied roots of the nearest tree stump.  “Half a body.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

“Oh my g-...what the hell?!” Stiles stumbled back a step.  This wasn’t the first dead body he had seen, being rather familiar with his father’s work both in and out of the office.  This was, however, the first dismembered half of a body he had seen. 

John reached out and gripped his son hard on the shoulder, keeping him steady.  “Easy Stiles.”

“I don’t think he should be out here,” Parrish pointed out, dialing the station.

“You can try and keep him away next time,” John chuckled and waited until Jordan was far enough away before dropping his voice.  “Stiles, I am going to need your help here.”

“We can’t bring a spirit back in that!” Stiles hissed.  “That is half a body, and not the half that has a mouth!

“I am very aware of that.  We need to find the top half.  If you can find it before the rest of the officers, we can speak to it before the medical examiner takes it away.”

“You want me to hunt for the other half of this dead body?” Stiles was still eyeing the flesh in disgust and morbid interest.

John pulled his attention forward.  “I searched around here and it isn’t anywhere closeby.  The rain washed the tracks away.  I need  _ you _ , you hearing me? I need  _ you _ to find it first.”

Stiles listened to all the things his father wasn’t saying.  The body had been moved.  The officers wouldn’t find it in the woods for the next couple of days at least which meant he had a head start if he could get everything together.  He nodded and the tight grip on his shoulders loosened only a little.  They both turned their ear to the conversation Parrish was having.

“...thanks Tara...She did?... Well, that’s Lydia for you.  At least we know now...yup… Bye.” Jordan hung up and walked back.  “Deputy Graeme is sending out the troops. Should be here in a half hour or so.”

John nodded.  “Stiles is going to head back to the house and flag them through.  Parrish, I want you to walk him back and set up flares leading them here.  And if you could bring back a couple bottles of water, that would be great.”

Stiles was unusually quiet on the way back, mentally reviewing everything he would need to create a locating beacon.  His mother’s grimoire might have something, if he could find the box of her stuff.

“You know,” Stiles said suddenly, “we have only been here for five days.”

Parrish raised a brow.  “I did, in fact, know that.”

“Five days, and then a dismembered body.”

“I know it is a bit sudden,” Parrish nodded sympathetically, “but just because we are a small town doesn’t mean we don’t see crime here.”

Stiles stopped and looked at the man.  “I meant, we had five whole days of peace and quiet.  In L.A., my dad was on one case after another.  The only time he wasn’t actively working on a homicide case was when we went camping that one time and even then, work followed him.  But here, it was like we were normal for a while and it was so uncomfortable.  Now this comes up and I feel like things are back to their usual programming.  How fucked up is that?”

Parrish chuckled and started walking again.  “It isn’t always this bad.”

“Don’t front with me, Jordan.  I know all about this freaky town.  Beacon Hills has the highest number of deaths in the state.  It is number three in the country for  _ unexplained  _ murder.  Oddly though, this town has very low B&E and vehicle thefts.  There is little gang activity anywhere in the region and domestic disputes hold to standard with seasonal norms, if on the low side.”

“And what do you conclude with all that information?”

Stiles shrugged.  “Not sure.  Just that it is a fairly safe town except for the murdered-by-freaks part.  That was another thing, really interesting.  The deaths are not the usual kind like shootings and stabbings.  They are strangulation, ritual sacrifice, occult deaths.  What do you have to say for yourself, huh?”

“You caught me,” Parrish deadpanned.  “I am the hoodoo priest, tasked with the ritual purification of this hole-in-the-wall town.”

Stiles snorted and almost tripped over a tree root.  “Hilarious.  But seriously, you have to admit it is strange.”

“Where did you even find all this information?” Parrish tried to change the subject, and Stiles knew the deputy was avoiding the topic, but he went along with it.

“I told you, five days of nothing.  Besides, it is a lot of catching up that the sheriff has to do.”

“You went through classified police files? That is illegal!” Parrish looked surprised.

“Oh please,” Stiles rolled his eyes.  “If you are worried about a high schooler going through ‘closed cases’ to help the town sheriff when there is a half a body to be found, you may need to rethink your priorities, Deputy.”

The back porch light came into view then.  “Fair point.  And I have a feeling that this isn’t the worst thing you have done.”

“If you only knew,” Stiles grinned wickedly.

**

The next evening, Stiles was tugging on his jacket and stuffing his feet into his trainers when there was a knock on the door.  Really, he should’ve know better to answer when he was all alone, being the son of the sheriff and all.  Thankfully, it was only Scott.

“Hey man,” Stiles greeted.  “What’s up?”

“I um...brought over my Econ notes.  Are you going somewhere? Did I come at a bad time? I can come back...” Scott looked nervous.

“It’s fine Scotty.  You wanna come in? Dad’s at the station and I was going to go for a walk. It can wait.”

Scott smiled, a little relieved.  Trying to make him comfortable, Stiles launched into a myriad of random topics until the other boy latched onto one.  Soon enough, they were bonding over video games and other geekery and Stiles was pretty sure that he had made his first real friend here.  Lydia was great, no doubt about it, but a guy needed guy friends.

“You were seriously about to go for a walk?” Scott looked skeptical at the prospect.  

Stiles shrugged.  “Yeah, why not? You afraid of the dark?”

Scott snorted.  “No. It’s just that the woods back there are where people die all the time.”

“Awesome!” Stiles beamed, and then sobered at Scott’s shocked face.  “Okay, not  _ awesome _ , but I just think it is interesting.  I mean, why there? What makes this place so special? No better time to check it out.”

A howl, similar to the previous night, rattled the windows.  Stiles’s face lit up and he grabbed his jacket and flashlight and headed towards the door.

“No way, man,” Scott held him back.

“Wha-?” Stiles flailed.  “Scott, come on, you can’t tell me you aren’t interested.  I wanna go check it out.”  He shoved his feet back in his shoes and flung the door open.  “You can stay here, no pressure or anything.”

Looking apprehensive, Scott stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed Stiles out the door.  “You are not going out there alone.”

Unbeknownst to Scott, Stiles had prepared everything beforehand to search for the body.  The incantation was whispered quietly, and the pendulum he had cleansed and tasked earlier was on a short string to remain unnoticeable to Scott.  Stiles could feel the gentle tug of the lead and slipped on the wet foliage as they trekked further in.

The howls echoed against the trees and it was hard to determine where they were coming from.  Sometimes the snarling sounded far away, and then moments later, the huffing came from justs around the trees.  Scott stayed pressed close to Stiles, his breath coming in short pants.

“You okay?” Stiles looked back to see Scott’s silhouette hunched over.

“Yeah,” he panted, and pulled something out of his pocket.  “Asthma.  It is why I am a benchwarmer on the lacrosse team and rarely play.”  He puffed on his inhaler a couple of times and leaned back to expand his lungs.

“You should have told me, I would have gone slower for you.” Stiles’s voice was kind, not the usual mocking that Scott was used to.

“It’s okay, I can manage.” Scott grinned and he looked like a sweet puppy.  Then his brow furrowed as he stared off into the trees.  “Hey, what is that?”

There was a small clearing, what looked like freshly turned dirt.  The foliage was scattered around in a pathetic attempt to hide the spot, but it was obvious.

“Something is buried here,” Stiles said, feeling the pendulum swing in circles.  He had a decent idea what it was under the earth.  He grabbed a fallen branch nearby and churned the soil, feeling it give way.  Scott used his foot to push the dirt away and slowly they unburied a piece of burlap fabric.

Scott wrinkled his nose and leaned back, but yanked the fabric away to reveal-

“A wolf head?” Stiles frowned down at it.  “What the hell is this?”  His mind raced through the incantations, the preparations, the notes in his mother’s journal.  Where had he gone wrong?  He hadn’t, he was always meticulous in his work.  So why a wolf’s head?  But it was more than just the head.  The body was ripped apart at the middle.

“That is both creepy and disgusting,” Scott pointed out.  

Stiles sighed.  “I should call my dad.”

“Yeah,” Scott stepped back.  “I’m just gonna wait over here away from the mutilated animal smell.”

Stiles chuckled and put the phone to his ear, walking a little ways further.  “Yo, Dad.”

“ _ Stiles _ .” 

“So, I found the thing, but not really.” 

Even through the phone, Stiles could feel his dad’s exasperation.  “ _ Care to define that? _ ”

“Well, see, I set the pendulum, followed the thing into the woods.  Scott came with me, b.t.dubs.  We found where something was buried and the signs say it is right, but what is buried is not a person.  It is half of a wolf.”

The silence dragged on.  “ _ A wolf? You are sure? _ ”

“Too big to be a coyote or a dog.  And it is really freaky.  Torn apart in the middle.”

“ _ Alright, turn your gps on, I am headed out. _ ”

Stiles hung up and walked back over to Scott.  “My dad is on his way.  You want to head home or hang out here?”

“I’ll stay, if that is cool.”  Scott smiled a little lopsided.  “Home is empty.  Mom’s working the overnight shift at the hospital.”

“And your dad?”

Scott scoffed and his expression hardened.  “That asshole hasn’t been home in years.  Good riddance too.”

“Sorry buddy,” Stiles tried to look sympathetic.

A lone howl echoed through the trees and they both looked up, trying to see between the branches.

“No wolves in California my ass,” Stiles muttered under his breath.

“It sounds sad,” Scott tilted his head a little.

Stiles looked taken back.  “How would you know what a sad wolf sounds like?”

“I work at the vet’s office.  You start to recognize the tones and stuff of the pets after a while.  That one just sounds sad, like heartbroken.”

Branches cracked loudly and leaves rustled in the still air behind them.  Both boys whipped their head around to see two spots of red flickering in the dark.  A low growl sounded and they backed up a little.

“What about that one?” Stiles whispered loudly.  “Does that sound heartbroken to you?”

Before they could blink, a ginormous black blur shot from the bushes.  Grabbing Scott’s hand, Stiles hauled him up and dragged him into a sprint.  It was impossible to see through the black, roots snagging at their shoes and branches snatching the edges of their clothes. 

Scott hit the stump first, throwing them both forward into a tumble. He landed flat on his chest on the stump as Stiles was rolled a ways off, head slamming against another tree.  Through bleary eyes, Stiles watched as the giant black blur rushed up to Scott and locked its jaws around the boy’s torso.

Stiles expected a scream, some blood-curdling, life-ending roar to come from Scott.  It was only a soft whimper of pain between the exhausted gasps.  The thing turned towards Stiles and stalked forwards.

It should have been a wolf.  The snout and bared teeth, the hackles, the ears folded back, the large paws, they were all lupine.  But the red eyes were unusual, as was the hulking form of the torso.  If it was a wolf, it was some mutilated grotesque version of one.

It sniffed at Stiles once and then huffed loudly, wet air puffing against Stiles’ face.  The beast threw its head back and let out a mix between a roar and a howl and charged off through the trees.

Stiles waited for a moment until everything went quiet again, his ears no longer ringing and his vision only swimming a little, before pushing up to crawl towards his friend.

“Scott? Buddy?”

Scott groaned and rolled over to look at Stiles.  “Dead.”

Stiles laughed.  “Thank the gods you are not.  You okay?”

“It bit me,” he whined and struggled to sit up, pulling his hoodie up to reveal a mangled side.

“I can see that.”  Stiles tried to control the urge to gag.  The wound itself wasn’t too bad, but Scott needed a doctor.

More foliage crunching had the boys on high alert, but the familiar footfalls preceded the sheriff. 

“You boys okay?” John asked, shining the flashlight over them both.  Stiles shook his head subtly as Scott said they were fine.  “You wanna show me what you found?”

Stiles looked around, his body swaying a little, but he couldn’t discern the direction they had come from.  “We were running, but I am not sure where we are now,” he admitted.

“Running?” John looked closer at them and noticed the injuries.

“We are okay though, no big deal,” Scott said quickly.  “It’s nothing.”

Stiles looked Scott over and the shine of his blood was getting more concerning.  “It’s cool Scott.  My dad can help,” he said softly, pulling his friend to his feet.

Scott didn’t look reassured.  “He wouldn’t believe us.”

“Yes he will.  Trust me, a crazy rabid wolf is not the strangest thing he has seen.”

Scott was still unsure, but Stiles launched into their epic tale.  John had taken the pendulum and let Stiles be Scott’s human crutch.  He led the boys back the way they came and they found the fresh piles of dirt.  John made Scott show him the bite mark, and winced at it sympathetically.

“It’s a good thing I called in a specialist,” John smiled a little.  

Yellow flashlights flickered through the trees and John called out to them.  Deputy Parrish walked up with a man in a grey sweater.  The man was almost invisible in the evening light, his dark skin blending in with the trees.  He was bald, but sported a neatly trimmed goatee, and his expression was guarded but friendly.

“Hey Doc,” Scott waved sheepishly.  “This is Doctor Deaton, he is the vet who I work for.  He’s cool.”

“It is always nice to see you out and about Scott, but I am sorry you are hurt.  Let me take a look.”  Deaton’s tone was eerily calm, but commanded attention at the same time.  Stiles immediately picked up on the tendrils of magic that followed the man and watched as he cleaned off Scott’s side and put on a makeshift bandage.

Jordan and John were inspecting the head of the wolf and discussing how to proceed from there.  Wanting to sit down, Stiles moved to find a rock or a tree stump and promptly caught his foot on something on the ground.  With a loud cry, he stumbled forward, ankle tangled in what looked like thin rope.

“What the hell?” he groaned and tugged the line from his shoe.  The fiber made his hands tingle and it shimmered in faint purple.  Pulling on the rope, it came easily from the soil, looping in circles around the body.  At various intervals, little purple flowers sprung up from the ground and fiber.

“Son?” John asked as they all watched Stiles yank length after length of rope until the end led right to the burlap sack.

“Holy fuck…” Stiles whispered and stared at what was once a wolf’s head.  “Dad?” Stiles whimpered.  “Dad what is this?  It was a wolf.  Now it is a girl.  What is this? What happened?”

John caught the look exchanged between Deaton and Deputy Parrish, but rather than call them out on it, pulled Stiles close and whispered for him to stay calm, that there was some sort of explanation for all this.  Stiles was trembling a little from the shock and John made the decision to call in the scene.  No one noticed the pair of eyes watching from further away.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Dude, I need to talk to you.”  Scott sounded nervous as he tugged on Stiles’ sleeve.  “Now, right now.”

The bell had rung for lunch period so they had some time to navigate to the boy’s bathroom, Scott herding Stiles along and ignoring the protests of the other students pushed out of the way.  

“Jesus,” Stiles muttered as they finally got a little bit of privacy.  “What is so important that we are forgoing the wonders of the modern cafeteria?”

“You remember I got bit last night, right?” Scott sounded worried.

Stiles stared at him for a moment.  “Yes, Scott, I vaguely remember something about being chased down by a rabid beast and then finding the mangled remains of a young woman.  That does ring a bell.”

“Look.”  Scott lifted his shirt.  Where there should have been bloodied bandages was only smooth skin.  In disbelief, Stiles ran his fingers over the unmarred skin.  “More than that, I ran sprints at morning practice and didn’t need my inhaler.  And all the scars I got as a kid, the scar here,” he pointed to nothing on his elbow, “where I crashed my bike in the neighbor’s mailbox, it is gone.”

“So you have some freaky healing thing now?” Stiles wondered and forced Scott to turn in a circle, inspecting every visible inch of skin.

“I don’t know, man.  I just needed to check that it wasn’t a dream, that we really went out to the woods last night.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, that unfortunately was real.  Did you ask Dr. Deaton about it?”

“No, but I am seeing him after school.  You think he will know something?” Scott sounded hopeful.

Stiles shrugged and marched them out to the cafeteria.  “Don’t know.  I do know that he knows more than he lets on.”

**

The sheriff’s station was busy for a Wednesday, people coming and going in waves.  John watched from his office, fingers pressed together against his lips and brow furrowed.  He wasn’t old, no matter how much Stiles teased him, but today he was feeling his age.

“Sheriff?” Jordan Parrish poked his head into the office.  “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, close the door please.”

Parrish chuckled, but was certain he wasn’t in any trouble.  “This can’t be good.”

John studied the man quietly as he waited for the deputy to settle into the chair.  He looked so young, so innocent, but there was something off about him.  “Do we have an ID on the girl from last night?”

“Yeah…” Jordan paused with a sigh.  “That is Laura Hale.”

“It sounds like I should know that name?”

Jordan chuckled darkly.  “I assume everyone knows the Hale name.  They were a big family about 6 years ago when all but three of them burnt to death in their home.  They couldn’t solve the case.  BHPD filed the report as an electrical fire with unusual circumstances.”

John was intrigued.  “What sort of unusual circumstances?”

“The fire burnt too hot too quickly that there had to be an accelerant, but none was found.  All the Hales were locked in the basement, except for Laura and her brother.  Peter Hale, their uncle, was burned so badly, he has been a permanent resident at Beacon Hills Memorial.  I can bring you their files, if you want.”

John nodded, interested in reading up on this.  “Anyway, you said Laura has a brother.  Have we contacted him yet?  As next of kin, he should decide what happens to her.”

“We can’t get ahold of him right now, but we will keep trying.  He can’t pick up the body for another four days anyway.”

“The autopsy shouldn’t take that long,” John pointed out.

“No, they should be done by tomorrow afternoon.  It is SOP to keep the body for five days in the mortuary.”

John hummed and gazed at the report on his desk.  “I noticed you left some things out of your report, deputy.”

Jordan laughed loudly, head tossed back, and relaxed further into his seat.  “I didn’t think anyone would believe a sudden transformation from wolf to girl, and as I didn’t see the hulking monster that the boys described, I made a judgement call in leaving it out.  Didn’t think you were one to stick to those things.”

“I’m not,” John agreed.  “But it would be very helpful to me if you were to write up a secondary report with all of those observations in it.  You know more than you are letting on, Deputy Parrish.  What is your relationship with Dr. Alan Deaton?”

Jordan sobered pretty quickly.  “I know him same as everyone in town knows him.  He is a vet, he consults on animal cases like this one.  He is a good man, polite, kind to everyone.”

“And yet I noticed that with our victim’s little transformation, you two were decidedly quiet on the subject.  I didn’t press it at the time because my son was going into shock, but if you have anything you want to tell me, now is the time.”

The two stared at each other in silence, only the muffled hum of people outside the door making any noticeable noise.  Jordan was fully prepared to wait the sheriff out, but John was extremely patient (having a son like Stiles definitely added to that) and the young deputy sighed and leaned forward.

“Sheriff, I have seen a lot of strange things in this town.  Your son had it right when he described this place.  We have the highest recorded number of deaths under bizarre circumstances, and I have seen my share.  Watching the dismembered body of a wolf turn into Laura Hale is not even the strangest thing I have seen.  There were always rumors about the Hale family, running around the preserve, growling and howls heard all over town.  And Dr. Deaton was very close to the Hales, an old family friend you could say.  I may be an officer of the law, but in protecting this town, I have to protect its secrets too.”

John nodded slowly, completely understanding.  “I haven’t been here long enough for anyone to trust me, I get it.  But understand that I have also seen more than my fair share of bizarre, and whether this is werewolves, or witchcraft, or some elaborate prank, I will find out and hold that person responsible.”

“Yes sir,” Jordan smiled a little.  “I will get you that report by the end of shift.”

“Good.  And keep trying the brother, he has got to be around somewhere.”

**

Stiles stepped into the dining room having just got home from school to find a dozen empty file boxes.  “Dad?” he called out.

“Down here!”

Stiles followed the voice down to the basement.  Stacks of papers littered the floor and the far wall was covered with notes and strings.  

“Wow.  A murder board up in less than a week of moving.  That has to be a record somewhere.” Stiles picked his way across the floor.

John waved his hand, motioning for his son to hand him the next set of papers.  “Watch where you step.  How was school?”

“Freaky.  Just as freaky as all this.  You are investigating a house fire?”

They both stepped back to study the wall for a moment.  John adjusted one of the pictures on the board.  “I am investigating the murder of one Laura Hale.  The Hale house fire happened years ago, but the more I go over things, the more I get the hunch they are connected.”

“No stone unturned,” Stiles nodded, acknowledging his father’s usual determination.  “How can I help?”

“Not sure yet.  I need to finish putting this all up and then maybe we can find a pattern.”

Stiles sat down on the floor and flipped through a bunch of papers in a stack.  “So…”

John paused to look over at his son whose expression was guarded, and then went back to the photos in his hands.  “Yeah?”

“Scott pulled me away just before lunch period today.  Said he had to show me something important.”  Stiles paused and waited for his dad’s attention.  Once John set his things down and turned to face Stiles, he continued.  “You saw that he was bit by that wolf, right?  Well, the mark isn't there anymore.  He said all of his other scars are gone too.  He ran sprints at lacrosse practice, beating the captain by the way, and didn’t have any hint of asthma. Not to mention he picked the scent of an old gum wrapper out of my backpack.”

“So what are you saying?” John folded his arms over his chest with a furrowed brow.

“I’m saying, I have seen The Wolf Man enough times to make the Scott McCall/Lon Chaney connection here.”

John was silent for a long moment.  “You think it was a werewolf last night?”

“You have that face on,” Stiles frowned.  “You have that face that says this is insanity and you don’t want to listen.”

Sighing heavily, John sat down next to his son.  “And you have that face that says you are certain.  So convince me.  Give me that facts.”

Stiles took a deep breath.  “Fact 1: Scott was bitten last night and now there is no mark, which means either we are all hallucinating, or he has developed some super healing thing.  Fact 2: Scott is displaying symptoms consistent with werewolf lore, including healing, speed, strength, hyper sensory intake.  Fact 3: the half of the body we found was a wolf.  Fact 4: that wolf turned into a human.  Fact 5: the rope and plants around the body of said shapeshifting wolf human were aconite, also known as wolfsbane.  Facts, Dad.  And you have dealt with shapeshifters before.  This isn’t really a big stretch.”

John nodded.  “Alright, convincing enough case.  And it is consistent with some of the things Parrish told me earlier today.  But without solid evidence of some sort werewolf, what? Leader? Pack? Something, this is still liquid concrete, not enough solid evidence.”

“So what do we do?”

“Well, the morgue will be done with Laura Hale’s body by tomorrow night so we can have a little chat with her.  And keep an eye on Scott.”

“The full moon just passed.  It may be another month before anything happens.”

John patted Stiles’ shoulder.  “Then be vigilant.  Notate everything until then and be prepared if or when it happens.”  Stiles nodded and shifted around.  “Also, I have spoken to Dr. Deaton.”

“The vet?” Stiles’ eyebrows raise.  

“The vet.  He is also a Druid.  He was extremely reluctant, but has agreed to tutor you on Sunday mornings.”

Stiles brightened up immediately.  “I have an official teacher?”

John chuckled.  “He prefers the term mentor, but he has some tricks up his sleeve.  You and I will still work together on other training here at home.  It is about time for your next tattoos.”

Stiles punched the air. “Yes!”

No one ever knew because Stiles never striped down in front of anyone, but his torso was littered with ink.  John had carefully layered protection magic into all of the lines on his son, the process for even the smallest runes taking hours.  In the last four years, Stiles had been inked with symbols from all sorts of traditions, runes and sigils, incantations and spiritual lettering.  The only piece that was not imbued with any sort of spark was the small pair of angel wings over his heart for his mother.  He had begged his dad for weeks to do that one, saying that his mother watching over him was enough, that it didn’t need any other magic, and John finally caved but ultimately got a similar one for his own chest.

“What are we doing this time?” Stiles asked eagerly.

John handed over a worn journal and Stiles flipped it to where the bookmark lay.  John smiled a little and turned back to his mystery-covered wall.  “Do your reading and figure it out.”

Curling up out of the way, Stiles read his father’s journal as John continued to organize his own information.  The evening passed in quiet comfort.

The next night, the Stilinski’s waited until after dinner before dressing comfortably and heading to the hospital.  The morgue was located on the second floor of Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital and was surprisingly full for such a small town.

“Evening,” Melissa McCall smiled from behind the desk.

“Good evening,” John smiled immediately, and pulled out his badge.  “I’m hoping you can direct me to the right body.”

Melissa nodded and after a brief conversation, led the two back to one of the holding tables.  “Are you sure Stiles should see this?” she wondered, pulling the zipper on the bag.

“Stiles is in the junior officers program, so he has clearance if that is what you are wondering.”  The program was a complete fake, taken from a shutdown community program from Los Angeles, but no one ever questioned it.

Melissa looked between the two of them.  “I mean that it is rather gruesome.”

“I’ve seen worse,” Stiles tried to reassure her, but the truth was that he really hadn’t.

She shrugged and pulled the bag open.  Both halves of Laura Hale rest inside , laying at awkward angles proving that the body was in fact, detached.  The smell was excruciating, somewhere between formaldehyde and animal rot.  Stiles tried to keep the horror from his face and stood frozen to keep from backing away.

“We are gonna need some time,” John said, a clear dismissal for Melissa and she left quietly.  Turning to his son, “Lock the door.  We don’t have much time.”

Stiles rushed to click the bolt in place as John pulled his supplies from under his jacket.  Salt and ash was spread around as Stiles lit the candles and called in sacred space.  When everything was set, Stiles asked, “Can I do this?”

John paused and then nodded, moving to stand behind his son.  “Calm and steady.”

Stiles took a deep breath.  “I call to the Gatekeeper, Watcher of Shadows, Keeper of Keys to the Underworld.  Your servant demands an audience with one in your care for the purpose of balance between the Light and Dark. Into this sacred space, into the body you once inhabited, Laura Hale, called forth from the Darkness and Shadow of the Beyond, I bid thee enter!”

There was a second of complete silence.  No muffled voices from outside, no breath, no heartbeats.  And then an earsplitting scream.

Laura’s eyes flew open and she looked around frantically, muscles rigid and pale skin pulled tight.  Stiles jumped forward and placed one hand over her mouth and another on her chest. 

“Laura!” he drew her attention, but her muffled screams slid past his fingers.  “Laura Hale, everything is okay. You are safe here.  I just need to ask you a few questions.”

Her bloodshot eyes welled with tears, but the pained screaming never stopped.  

“Can you tell me who did this?  Can you tell me what you remember?”

Stiles could feel her lips move from under his hand and he lifted it off, but all he could hear was her pain.

“Do you remember your house fire? Can you tell me anything about what happened then?  Please, anything.”

John placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.  “Send her back,  son.”

Quickly, Stiles murmured the words to release her from her body and she quickly fell still and silent.  He placed three chocolate coins on her chest and closed everything out, moving through the ritual.  John removed the evidence of what they did as Stiles stood shaking by the door.  When they were finished, he flipped the lock.

“What was all that screaming?” Melissa asked as they stepped outside.

John shook his head.  “I thought it was coming from out here.  Unless the dead speak?” he tried to joke and she snorted in part amusement.

Stiles waited in silence under the awning by the entrance trying to quell the nausea as his dad brought the car around.  His hands would not stop shaking.  Angry at himself, he was certain he had done something wrong.  Laura said nothing and their one opportunity to speak to her was wasted.

Pushing off the bench, he took two steps toward the curb when he ran nose first into a solid body.  Bouncing off with an apology, Stiles moved to turn away when his arm was caught in a strong grip.

“Wha-?” He looked up to see a well-built man staring at him hard.  The man was only a bit taller, with an unshaven face and almost wild eyes.  The man glanced up and down Stiles’ body, still holding tight to his arm.  In the light, it looked as though the man’s eyes flashed red.

“Laura…” the stranger whispered.  Stiles tugged his arm away in surprise and the man frowned further.  “You smell like death.”

“Stiles!” his dad called from the car and he was saved from having to excuse away the ash and sulfur smell from his clothes by rushing to shut himself in the cruiser.

Stiles was unusually quiet on the drive home and went to cleanse with rose water before collapsing on the couch. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as John took his usual seat in the armchair.

“For what?” John raised a brow.

Stiles sighed heavily and sunk further into the cushions.  “I messed something up.  We didn’t get anything useful.”

“Not true,” John pulled a small voice recorder out of his pocket.  “I watched carefully.  You did everything right.  It was always going to be a gamble with her body as destroyed as it was.  The fact she was even aware with her body in such pain is a testament to your strength.”

“All she did was scream though.”

John shook his head.  “Listen carefully.”

Stiles leaned in close and John pressed play.  The screaming was a raw echo of earlier and Stiles frowned.  Then, in the breaths between cries he heard words.

“ _ Alpha...Derek...Peter… _ ”


End file.
